


Blurred memories

by Kiliandra



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Angst, Loneliness, M/M, Nightmares, Post S3, Suffering, as much canonical as possible, i have no idea how to tag this, mention of Abigail's death, pain&blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-13
Updated: 2016-08-13
Packaged: 2018-08-08 11:59:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7757029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiliandra/pseuds/Kiliandra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They survived the fall. They're both recovering while their minds are adjusting to the new situation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blurred memories

**Author's Note:**

> I would like to thank TigerPrawn for her help as she suffered while beta-reading this text.
> 
> It's my first Hannibalistic fic, so I hope It won't be too messy. I'm still not over this show nor emotions it caused. It is still perfect. And definitely #itsstillbeautiful.

He was so fired.

Jack was standing speechless. Dark sky above his head seemingly purple. He blinked twice realizing that the lights were actually those of police and FBI cars. He knew there should be noise behind him, but he doesn’t hear it. He hears only his own heartbeat.

7 dead people.  
Two missing police cars.  
One missing special consultant.  
One missing killer. _Extremely dangerous killer._

He looked again at bodies dropped around, like they were unnecessary dirty socks left on the floor in a hurry.

The body of the Great Red Dragon nowhere to be seen.  
That gave him two missing killers.

He rubbed his eyes, trying to get rid off of the sight in front of him.  
How could he ever have believed that Will Graham was on their side?  
_Then that’s three missing killers._

He was about to swear at his utter stupidity when Price and Zeller arrived behind him. Price was temporarily silent, Zeller was trying to put gloves on his hands. His fingers were trembling slightly.

“I’ve heard you wanted to fake his escape, but was it necessary to be so realistic?” Price asked.

“DID I GIVE YOU PERMISSION TO SPEAK?!” Jack snapped and Price took step back, abashed.

“Um… I… I’ll go to take… evidence…”

“ZELLER! Make sure you photograph everything. I want their DNA. And check his straitjacket.”

“For blood?”

“For Graham’s bloody fingerprints! DNA. Saliva. Whatever! And the mask. Check the fucking mask!”

Zeller blinked, shocked. “You don’t think…”

 _“Because he was my friend,”_ he murmured under his breath.

“Eh?” Big blue eyes of Brian looked at him strangely worried.

 _“…and because I wanted to run away with him,”_ finished Jack.

He withdrew his phone from a pocket and pushed some buttons in order to find the right number. He had to connect with some local puppets that he still could push around and give orders to. He needed power. What’s left of it.

“Crawford. I need you to check the harbor… Yeah, that exact one… Check if Graham’s boat is still in place.”

**###**

Will was lying on the sand, panting. 

Every muscle in his body ached. His face was stiff, his hands almost motionless with hypothermia. Rhythmic sound of water, crashing against nearby rocks, slowly reached his ears, making him aware with every painful breath that he had survived. 

Panic immediately accelerated the rush of blood in his veins, and with it appeared the chest pain.

He had killed him.  
He had pushed Hannibal into the abyss from which there was no return.  
He had destroyed the monster who couldn’t be stopped.  
He was free.

But what did that even mean for him?

Another hit, his heart fighting beneath his ribs.  
Another sting of pain.  
He wasn’t free at all.  
He had killed them both.  
There was no reason to come back.

Hannibal would live on in his memory palace.  
And yet, he wouldn’t hear his voice anymore.  
Sudden realization of this fact caused a physical pain that tore forth a howl, that scared even him.

He could, of course, return to Jack. He could fight for Molly, pretend. But he knew, deep inside, that he was nothing more than a relentless killer. He could try to hide this little fact about himself, but he would know. That awareness would never escape from his mind, as well as the aching emptiness that would never cease to exist in his soul.  
He was alone.

A quiet murmur, striking out clearly above the rhythmic sound of waves shattering on the shore, caught his attention. It wasn’t the time, nor the place for stray animals to roam. Will lifted his head, or rather tried to, but the pain in his cheek darkened his sight. There was another moan tearing out his mouth.

And waves again. Swoosh. Scraping. And a hiss.

Fear gave him another shot of adrenaline and Will tumbled onto his left side, careful not to harm his aching arm. Darkness around him deepened his anxiety, but the sound that reached his ears a second later stopped his heart. And maybe he just forgot how to breathe?

“Will.” Silent whisper, yet perfectly recognizable.

Will had no idea how he was able to speak, not to mention move, but then he was crawling towards his friend. His sharpened breath was barely audible.

Hannibal was cold, but his chest was moving. Slowly, uneven, but moving undeniably. 

Will could still leave him here, let him sink, with the upcoming high tide. But this was different from pulling him from the cliff, possibly killing both of them. Knowing how much harm they could cause if only they let themselves be what they are. But leaving a friend to die, in the cold sand, all alone, was unforgivable, even in their world.

He touched his neck to check the pulse, only to realize how stupid this action was. Hannibal was alive, looking at him - tired, defenseless. A hard, painful thump in his chest and every thought Will had had since he emerged from the waves was the past, nothing more.

His heart began to slow as the decision germinating in his mind finally came to fruition.

“Can you move?” he asked His voice was harsh, and did not sound like his own. It was panic, Will quickly realized. He needed Hannibal to be alright.

Hannibal nodded, and stretched his hand towards him. Will grabbed icy palms and smiled.

“Let's go then.” He rose with a stifled whimper, and jerked Hannibal's arm to lift him up. His eyes seemed purple in the moonlight. “Come, we have to...”

“Die,” said Hannibal with an edge of regret in his voice.

“We are already dead. Now get up. You need some help.”

“Will.” There was pain in his voice, and fear. Will kneeled, looking him in the eyes.

“Yes,” he said quietly.

There were tears in Hannibal’s eyes and a hesitation. Will locked his gaze on tired irises of Lecter as he smiled viciously.

“Yes, the world would be better without us. But I have no intention of dying, nor seeing you die from exposure. You will have the time to complain about my actions later, but now try to move your smart ass.”

There was a shock and deliberation that Hannibal couldn’t hide, or maybe didn’t want to. But he finally nodded, adjusting his grip on Will’s hand as he arose.

**###**

Hannibal looked around with astonishment. There was Chiyoh standing in front of a blue truck with a blanket that she threw around his shoulders as soon as she spotted them. She didn’t look at Will with anger or animosity as he might expect. In fact, she didn’t look at Graham at all.

“Quick, you need some help,” she said into his ear, leading him towards the car.

“If I recall correctly, you wished to be free,” he said, shivering. He tried to move faster but wasn’t able and she knew that only by looking at him. Good girl. Well trained. She grabbed him firmly, ignoring Will’s words that she should be careful, that there is an open wound in his abdomen.

“Help him,” ordered Hannibal, and Chiyoh hesitated for a second.

“I’m fine,” Graham teeth clanged. “Let’s get out of here. Quick. Jack won’t be paralyzed by the battlefield for long.” She nodded and dragged Hannibal into the car, supported by Will’s healthy arm. He was pushed into the back seat and Will crumbled himself there as well to sit beside him.

She moved quickly at that point. Jumped in the front seat, leaned and took something from the glove compartment. A grey backpack landed on Will’s lap as she threw him a jacket and a towel too. She didn’t wait longer, nor checked if Will got his presents, the engine was on and they were driving down a woodland road.

Hannibal gasped, watching as Will, ignoring his wet clothes began to check the bag. He withdrew two passports, credit cards, some other papers and a gun. Simple Desert Eagle, but it caused cold shivers to run along Hannibal’s spine. Every other question that had come to his mind evaporated at that point.

Will Graham smiled viciously.

“Is Abigail where I want her to be?” Green eyes were focused on the driver. Her dark, brown eyes catching the glimpse of his gaze in the rear-view mirror as she nodded.

“She is.”

Hannibal raised an eyebrow, unable to speak. Unable to comprehend. 

Adrenaline had evaporated from his limbs a long time ago and the fighting-swimming adventure began to take a toll on him. Hot air from air-conditioning surrounded him, reminding him of a gentle wind of Florence at night. He closed his eyes feeling soft fabrics of the blanket around his body.

The last thing he felt before he passed out was warm fingers, grabbing his hand, squeezing it really hard. There were words floating in the air, but he didn’t hear them.

**###**

Hannibal woke in the evening. The first thing he saw were blue-green eyes of Will Graham focused on him and he gasped at the sensation that ran through him. He took a breath only to realize that the excruciating pain hadn’t abandoned him. He has to be alive or somewhere between life and death. And yet this was an image that might come to his mind at a time of demise. Even if it was to be the last thing he would see before being sent to hell, the sight was worth the trouble.

“Is this my personal purgatory? Will I be dreaming about you in agony?” his traitorous tongue betrayed him and let the words slip out.

Visible pain ran through Will’s face and Hannibal knew it wasn’t a dream.

“Chiyoh stitched you up. It was clean shot,” explained Graham.

“Francis didn’t intend to kill me.”

“He wished to kill me.” He heard a cold statement. There wasn’t any point with fighting against it. They both knew, he was right.

Hannibal closed his eyes and Will disappeared into the darkness.

**###**

There wasn’t any noise around him. Just a distant humming. He felt nauseous, and instantly knew where he was. The dull feeling will perish in a moment. No single sound. No scratching. No scurry of footsteps. No birds singing. No engine even. Just swaying under his body and a hum. Finally he honed in on the recognizable sound of waves hitting the hull of a boat. And the very familiar scent of Will all around him. Hannibal smiled and closed his tired eyes.

Will hadn’t abandoned him after all.

**###**

Will was pacing around the table. Lecter hadn’t fully woken up since the fall. He was barely conscious, and Will began to think that all of his planning would go to waste if Hannibal died. He gulped, scared.

_“Is Hannibal in love with me?”_

He remembered the answer. How could he forget? Another of Lecter’s agendas in the world. She couldn’t have been more destructive if she had put a bullet in his head.

How could he walk away?

He tried to fight with this feeling growing inside his chest since he’d heard her answer.

_“But do you ache for him?”_

He licked his lips. Hannibal’s hair were greasy and yet Will tried to fight the urge to fix the strands, touch them. He shouldn’t look like this. It felt almost obscure. Unnatural for this man of smartness.

He had left that question unanswered until Dolarhyde showed up on his doorstep. Then everything suddenly fell into place. His ways. His reason. His instinct. Every cell in his body screamed one simple word, he couldn’t deny any longer.

_“Yes.”_

And his very soul was aching at that revelation.

**###**

“Why?” Hannibal asked when he saw blue, tight t-shirt in the range of his view.

“I was curious what would happen,” was the answer. Hannibal gulped, adjusting himself a little on the cot. Will was pretending to check something in the cupboard.

“You already knew what would happen.”

The brunette turned around quickly, looking him in the eyes. Vicious smile. Once again.

“Well, maybe I did.” He shrugged. “Did I manage to surprise you, doctor Lecter?”

Hannibal smiled approvingly.

“No.”

Will blinked, shocked, considering the sincerity of those words. Anger played across his face and he winced, his fingers clenched into a fist in order to hide the pain. Stitches on his cheek weren’t precise, they were messy as if he…

Anger rose in Hannibal’s mind and he couldn’t fight it.

“The stitches - Chiyoh should fix them.”

Will shook his head.

“We are all alone, Hannibal.”

Curiosity and a single strong heartbeat in his chest. He swallowed it. This wasn’t the time.

“Your arm…” he looked at bandages ineptly bound around it.

“A little bit stiff, for now. I won’t be so precise when shooting anymore.”

“She should have…”

“She was busy. And did a good job. With you.” He stated, cutting Lecter’s words. “I’ve made dinner for you. It isn’t chicken soup, but I didn’t have right ingredients. It should do…”

“Why?” he asked again.

“So you can get better. You, of all people, should know that, doctor.” A smirk on his lips. Hannibal shook his head.

“What changed your mind?”

This smile, this vicious smile and a huff.

“Nothing changed it. It was already there. I just didn’t see it. Or refused to admit what was looking at me from the mirror for a long time. I believe you would call it a ‘denial’.”

Hannibal nodded, taking the bowl full of rice and overcooked carrots. Will made sure he was able to hold the utensil and left. Hannibal took a spoonful of it and considered spitting the atrocity on the floor, but he was hungry. So he took another mouthful. And then another.

He finally put away empty bowl and lay down. His eyes heavy as he drifted away, feeling nothing but the waves.

**###**

Will was feeling alone. There was only sea around them, and the only companion he had was barely conscious most of the time. He tried to provoke him, but Hannibal ignored his words and his motions. The reasonable part of his brain told him he is too weak to deal with reality. But this tricky, notorious liar living inside him was screaming that Hannibal will run away if he gives him a chance.

_Maybe you tried to kill him too many times?_

Tons of questions were fighting to be free, every time he looked at the silent man. And yet he didn’t have nerve to ask. Not now, when answers really mattered.

He was about to snap, scream at him, that he was just shot. One bullet into his intestines. That compared to Will’s wounds it’s hardly an injury. But then he met this curious gaze. Amber eyes seemed red in the lighting of the deck, and he lost his vigor. He never looked away, though. Hannibal was the one who drifted away, pretending to sleep.

**###**

He was on the edge of dream while Will’s scent grew stronger and he heard the almost silent steps of the man.

_“I would encourage you, as a friend, not to step back through that door he holds open. It’s dark on the other side, and madness is waiting.”_

He heard his own words coming out of Will’s mouth and he opened his eyes to look into blue-green one’s. There was no remorse in this voice. Just calmness. Hannibal shifted a little and a silent gasp escaped involuntarily from his mouth.

There was a worried look. And a hand on his. A ghostly touch. But it disappeared quickly. Too quickly, before Hannibal had time to reach for it.

Hannibal knew better than to endanger his badly made stitches with sudden movements. He stayed still. There was visible pain painted on this wounded face, but there was also something else. 

Intrigue. Stubbornness.

“How could you know that Dolarhyde would invoke all these instincts to the surface?” asked Graham finally.

“The stew had to boil long enough, it had to wait for someone to lift the lid, so the steam could escape.”

“You couldn’t do this by yourself?”

“I had no intention for this steam to blow into my face.”

A nod. And a step back. Graham was hiding in the shadows again. Far from Hannibal’s reach, but close enough for his scent to contaminate his senses.

There was vacillation as if he was considering options and Hannibal closed his eyes in order not to look at him. Seeing him so close, yet so far away was too painful. Three years in a cage didn’t change him.

Three years without Will did.

**###**

_“Should I… say sorry?”_ thought Will for a second on seeing the pain in Lecter’s eyes, that he’d tried to hide abysmally. But he knew it isn’t about apologies. He didn’t have to say it, nor Hannibal. 

Hannibal already knew his reasons. He surely already forgave him. And if he hadn’t yet, he will, once he sees the new name Will gave to the boat.

Lecter moved a little and Will felt the urge to find himself in the embrace of the Lithuanian. He leaned closer, changing his position, letting Hannibal see him once more.

“I made a teacup whole once again,” he whispered.

Hannibal gulped as his curious gaze rested upon Will’s lips. Lecter’s face went pale. At least paler than usual. Will felt heat spreading through his limbs at the sight.

“Sort of,” he added.

“Care to explain, my good Will?”

He didn’t.

He just got up and approached the cot with a smile twitching in the corner of his lips.

“Another time. Now, just concentrate on getting better. There’s a meal waiting for us when you feel stronger,” said Will. Visible shadow of jealousy clouded his features for a second and Hannibal was certain to whom he is referring.

“I assume she is quite eager for being concocted in some very contrived way,” answered Hannibal with a shy smile. Will chuckled in response.

“I have to cool your zeal. It’s too soon. Even Jack will check her apartment this time. He doesn’t need an empath for a consultant to figure out the obvious. Besides, I bet she is poisoning herself since… since we are likely considered dead.”

The happy expression evaporated from Hannibal’s face. “I believe you have something more in mind than to sail over the ocean, because if I recall correctly in five, six days we will run out of fresh water. Not to mention food.”

A smile.

“You have to let our little girl take us safely to shore.”

Hannibal didn’t ask where they are or where they’re heading. It didn’t matter.

Will promised him participation in eating Bedelia and he couldn’t find any reason why not to believe him. The very thought of sharing this particular meal seemed very... arousing.

There was some amusement in Will’s expression and Hannibal knew he had missed something important. He gulped giving himself few more seconds to think, trying to pick up all the pieces.

“Our little girl?” he asked finally.

“Abigail” answered Will with a smile.

He suddenly couldn’t move, feeling paralyzed like on the cliff, when Will’s arms assured him… told him everything. And he was falling once again, unable to scream or even breathe. There was hand on his solar plexus and Hannibal felt like his whole world began to spin around him very rapidly.

“How…” Hannibal murmured, not entirely sure if he is referring to the girl or the situation itself. Both seemed impossible.

Will’s smile grew wider and Hannibal could see one of his stitches fissuring and dark, almost black blood beginning to flow down his face. Will lay down very slowly next to him, giving him time to refuse his actions. But how could he refuse? Will’s head rested on Hannibal’s shoulder as he began to speak very quietly:

“Let me tell you a story.”

“A story?” he gasped as Will’s fingers began to climb from his torso to the neck.

“A fairy tale, then,” amended Will. He heard flowing words as metallic scent of blood in the air attacked his senses. Sticky fluid landed on his bare skin and he knew half of Will’s face is covered with blood.

He closed his eyes to the feeling nausea. He had seen this picture before…

 _“Once upon a time…”_ he heard as his world began to blur, disappearing into nothingness.

**###**

Suddenly he is standing in his own kitchen, blood all over his hands and shirt. A loud crash of broken glass and Alana screams somewhere far away.

There are footsteps and he knows who would emerge in a second. What he should do. But there is a hesitation in Hannibal’s motions. Opportunity to save them both, or lose them.

Without this loss Will won’t ever change. Will never find him. Never even begin to look for him in the first place. He won’t reject him. He won’t come back fully aware of who he is.

He could save himself from the pain of the broken heart.

But it already happened. He can’t save himself. And maybe that’s just fine…

His world began to blur once again as this beautiful man turned over to face him with broken expression.

_“You was supposed to leave.”_

_“We couldn’t leave without you,”_ he said and began his monologue, finishing it with a cut of his knife, while his heart is breaking as a fragile porcelain. _“I let you know me. Let you see me. I gave you a rare gift, and you didn't want it.”_

_“Didn’t I?”_

Hannibal looked at Will’s expression, for the first time with hope.

_Is it even possible that he knew all of it back then? That gun in his hand wasn’t destined for him? That the call he made was intend to really save his live?_

_Did he really have to kill their little girl?_

He watched as Will crawled towards the growing puddle of blood on the floor, draining from Abigail’s lanced artery. Will was trying to help her, but he was about to pass out in moments. His blood pressure would slow down significantly, saving his life in the process. Abigail was already lost. Even he hasn’t the ability to stop the bleeding.

The cup was shattered.

The eyes of his little girl didn’t hide fear any longer. Didn’t hide anything. Two empty mirrors reflecting the whiteness of the ceiling.

One last look at Will, his head on the floor, eyes still open, blood glued to half of his face as if he was wounded there, not in his abdomen. Dark, heavy drops dribbling into the red abyss underneath his body.

He knows that image will haunt him wherever he goes.

And yet he leaves, stepping into the rain.

**###**

Will gasped with relief, seeing maroon eyes open again.

“We need a pharmacy,” he stated. “You have a fever, and I’m not sure…”

Hannibal rose up on his elbows, sitting. Will went silent as Lecter’s hand dabbed the scar on his cheek and the man leaned into the touch, ignoring visible pain. A few points where the stitches protruded from his skin were reddened. Will needed antibiotics.

Hannibal nodded, agreeing to Will’s words as he pulled him closer, surrounding him with his arms. No hesitation. Hannibal hid the smile in dark curls.

There was one thing left to be done to make the world a safe place for both of them.  
A loose end.

“Jack Crawford has to die,” he whispered into Will’s ear. 

There was no contradiction. No doubts.

“I was wondering when you would feel good enough to bring up this subject.”

**###**

The little boat is drifting slowly towards the wild beach in south Mexico. The shore seems crowded enough to let them escape from curious gazes. The man in long sleeves is holding firmly to the steering wheel. His hair badly cut, sticking in different directions. He would be handsome if not the ugly scar running through half of his face. The hair of the other one is perfect, likewise his rather fancy linen white suit. He is smiling lazily, caressing larboard as he watches the helmsman with visible affection.

The name of the boat seems to be important, but there’s no-one in the world who could ask about it and live long enough to hear the story hidden in blue letters painted on the wood.


End file.
